Casual Affair
by RachelGoesRawr
Summary: Stella Jackson is chosen by Hydra to take care of the Winter Soldier as Project Insight is set into place. She is only following orders as she is locked into a room with him and forced to do whatever she must in order to survive. But falling in love with a man who remembers absolutely nothing was not expected. BuckyxOC
1. Chapter 1

_"Stay for as long as you have time so the mess that we'll become leaves something to talk about."_-Panic! at the Disco (Casual Affair)

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_**Chapter One**_

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I was quite used to not sleeping well enough. I was always fatigued and if I could, I would pump caffeine in my veins so that I could make it through the day. So it came as a surprise to me when I woke up in a warm bed that hugged my every , my bed seemed to want to push me out of it. My mind didn't scream to retreat back to the safety of sleep and my eyebrows furrowed at the foreign feeling. I was well rested and it was very unsettling. As my eyes cleared and I was able to process everything, I started to panic. A good night's sleep wasn't the only thing that was odd; I was in a completely different place than my own apartment. The last thing I remembered was returning home and feeding my fish before shuffling into my small, but comfortable bed. It took a few hours for me to finally fall asleep after closing my eyes. I was not in my own bed or even my own room.

The room that I was currently in was painted a rather dark gray and the light that was on the ceiling was on, but it didn't give off a lot of light. There was a door directly ahead of me and a door to my left, both the same shade of gray as the walls that surrounded me. The bed was completely white and I was almost sure that most of the lighting in the room came from the blanket that covered my body. Other than the bed, there was no other form of furniture around the room and it made me nervous. A lump that was impossibly to swallow formed in the middle of my throat and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My fingers twitched slightly as I shifted the blanket to the other side of the bed and stepped onto the black carpet. Where was I? Why was I here?

I walked towards the door that was previously on my left and my fingers trembled as they touched the cold doorknob. I turned the knob and pushed the door opening, gasping when a rather white bathroom greeted me. Nothing seemed out of place. It had a sink, toilet, and a shower, but no mirror that I could look into. There was nameless shampoo and soap in the shower with a scrub hanging from the shower head. It seemed like someone was supposed to live here and I hoped that it was just a big mistake that I somehow ended up here. I quietly shuffled out of the bathroom and back into the room I awoke in, crossing my arms over my chest when I noticed how cold it was. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I walked towards the remaining door, my whole body shaking as I pushed it open.

It was a small living room with no television or any sort of electronics. The walls were white, the floor was some type of dark wood, and there was a black couch and a coffee table. It was almost frightening to see such a bland atmosphere. There was a bookshelf with no books, magazines, or any type of reading material on it. Everything was blank. The only sound I could here was coming from my labored breathing. Fear was the only emotion that I could currently process besides the need to escape whatever position that I was currently in. Everything screamed that I was supposed to be isolated with only the necessary needs at my disposal. I** felt** isolated and scared.

"Hello?" I shouted. "Is anyone here?"

I screamed when a response came in the form of a loud knocking coming through one of the walls. My body tensed as a part of the wall in the far left of the room slid open and a group of men walked through it. Most of the men looked like guards and they wore all black. Everything from their shoes, bulletproof vests, to their guns were black. They didn't look at me but I knew if I stepped out of my boundaries with them, I'd end up shot and in some ditch somewhere outside Washington. But the man in the very front was different. He seemed so at ease as he smiled at me, his hand reaching out as if to shake mine. He wore a crisp, dark gray suit with a blue tie that almost made him blend in with the surroundings of the room we were in. He was definitely becoming elderly because his blonde hair was beginning to gray around his ears. His face and the area around his blue eyes were wrinkled.

"Miss Jackson, it is a pleasure to meet you," he stated. I jumped at the sound of his voice and crossed my arms tighter over my chest, refusing to shake his hand. The hand dropped towards his side after a moment after my refusal was noted.

"Why am I here?" I asked. His eyes lost a touch of their warmth at my question and my lack of manners. But I felt like it was acceptable to be a little on edge at the moment.

"It seems that you are not one for pleasantries, Miss Jackson. I'm not sure if that is a good things or a bad thing." He shoved his hands into his pockets and eyed me, my body filled with tension. I felt as if I could spring away from the group of men in front of me. "My name, Miss Jackson, is Alexander Pierce. I am with an organization that is seeking to bring back order to the world. We are making sure that people are protected from others that are wanting to restrict the freedom that people deserve."

"Forgive me, but I don't see what that has to do with me," I told.

"It has everything to do with you, presently, Miss Jackson," he replied. "You have been specifically chosen to…aid one of our special agents during his off time."

"I don't ever recall applying for another job, Mr. Pierce. Especially one that secretly relocates me to a place I'm not familiar with. I do believe that's called kidnapping, not job advancement."

"You are right, Miss Jackson. You were kidnapped."

I felt my heartbeat speed up at his words and the way he said them as if he were talking about the weather. He didn't even seem to care about the effect that they had one me. My eyes were darting across the room and my breathing was quick. I needed to get out of here. One of the men in black handed Alexander Peirce a small folder, which he quickly opened.

"Stella Kate Jackson, female. You are twenty-five years old with no siblings and no parents after they died in a car crash six years ago, apparently caused by a drunk driver. You graduated high school with a rather average grade point average and started working at the Martha Public Library shortly after. You buy two romance novels per month and were diagnosed with infertility three years ago," he read.

"How did you know all of that?" I demanded.

"Honestly, Miss Jackson, we have been tracking you for quite some time. Which is why you are here now." He gave the folder back to the man behind him and looked at me. "You have no ties to anyone important, your absence will not be noted, and there is no way that you could possibly get pregnant."

"What does my infertility have to do with any of this shit that you want me to do?" My voice began to get louder and I was more afraid of what could be done to me than anything else. "Why am I here?"

"You're here, Miss Jackson, to relieve a part of your childhood. You're here to play house with a playmate that doesn't really play well with others. He's a bit….aggressive. You are going to feed him, make sure he sleeps, eats, and gets everything he could possibly need," he told. I gulped as I realized what he was implying.

"Why should that involve my inability to get pregnant?" I stammered.

"Because he is a man after all, Miss Jackson. As much as we value his work and how it aids our mission, we would rather not have to deal with any children he could possibly have," Alexander insisted. "I think it would be in his best interest have something to release his extra aggression that he may not be able to get rid of during his missions. Your infertility will make sure that his sexual needs are met but that there aren't any children that get in the way of things."

"I was hoping to save myself for my husband."

"Well, you can think of him as a short-term husband if it eases your mind. No one has to know what will happen here, Miss Jackson."

"Are you saying that I will be released?"

"Eventually, perhaps, if you do what you are asked and behave. But we can't always get what we want." I hated this man so much that I felt my hands shaking, wanting to hurt him in some way. "If you are defiant, then you will be put down."

"You can't do this to me! You're talking about rape! You kidnapped me! This is all illegal!" I shouted.

"Miss Jackson, what is legal doesn't matter to me. It would be best for you to know that I am the government and what you think should apply in this situation does not," he dictated. "You will do as I say and what is asked of you. Anything else will result in mental and physical pain in almost every way you could imagine possible. It would be in your best interest if you would behave accordingly.

He turned around and ignored my pleading to be released. The wall closed and I ran to it, my fists beating on it as cried for help. But there wasn't even a sign of where the wall had turned into a door at all. I was stuck with a vague idea of why I was here, but the feeling of fear coated my body and threatened to drown me. I sank into the floor and cried into my knees. I didn't know how long it had been since they put me here and I was even more afraid at the thought that I didn't know how long it would be until I was released from this room. I was afraid of Alexander Pierce. I was afraid of this room. I was afraid of the man who I had to aid, whoever he was.


	2. Chapter 2

_"When you with your eyes everything seems nice. But if you look twice, you can see it's all lies."_-Lily Allen (LDN)

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Chapter Two

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Time never seemed to go by as slowly as it did the first three days that I lived in the small prison I was forced into. I forced myself in and out of sleep the first two days, took severely long showers since the hot water never seemed to go out, and explored the small kitchen that was given to me. The other aspects of my time were spent singing, talking, and making strange noises. But I was the only person that could hear me doing any of these things. My ears were constantly ringing and I would be surprised if I had any teeth left after grinding them so much. The silence that surrounded me felt as if it forced me to submit to the will of this organization that had randomly decided to take me in. The first two days of my captivity consisted of me making noises and sounds that only I could hear and crying quietly to myself.

By the third day, my mind felt almost numb. I had been living in a series of black, white, and gray and the silence that followed me everywhere matched those colors. I had even been given a rather bland wardrobe after they had forced me to remove my regular clothes. I had sweatpants and sweatshirts in shades of white, gray, and black. The shoes, though I didn't ever wear them, were flats with no heel or laces. I originally thought that this was to prevent me from hurting myself or the guy they intended on keeping me with. White, black, and gray were the only things I seemed to see and breathe. The numbness was becoming almost too painful to bear. Halfway through my third day in cativity, I was screaming and throwing everything physically possible around every room I could go into.

"Is this all I can do?" I screamed, wondering if they could hear me. "I'm not putting up a fight and I'm losing my mind! Give me something! Anything! Or I will put up a fight, damn it!"

My demands were met with the same silence as before and I couldn't help but throw more and more things that I could get my hands on around my cage. I couldn't even move the furniture because it was nailed to the floor. There was nothing but white walls to fuel my thoughts and I loathed it. So after every couch cushion and blanket had been scattered across the floor, I finally resigned and forced myself to fall into an uneasy sleep. I was greeted the next morning with everything back in its proper place. It was as if nothing had been touched and it made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I liked my lips nervously, instantly regretting my decision to throw such a monstrous fit hours earlier. My mind automatically went to the thought that I would probably suffer for what I had just done.

So it didn't truly help my fear when I stepped into the small living room and saw another guard, dressed in all black once again, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed. His red hair was short and his brown eyes looked at me as if he were waiting for a small dog with rabies to go into a frenzy. His skin was so pale that it almost blended into the walls. He stood up after we stared at each other for a moment and I gulped at how tall he was. Despite his height, he didn't have much muscle on him and his fingers looked quite long from my position across the room.

"Are you going to throw another tantrum?" he asked.

"No," I stammered. I suddenly realized that for the past three days I had been waiting for the man that was to be sent to me. Perhaps, I thought, that this was the man I was told about. My hands began to tremble visibly as I began to question whether or not he would rape me now or wait until later.

"Are you…him?" I asked, my voice quiet.

"The asset? No." He answered. I exhaled slowly but I was still afraid. "I'm Agent Moss."

"I'm sorry I got upset yesterday. I'm just in a bit of a stressful situation," I apologized. He shrugged at my words as if he wasn't even truly listening to what I was saying.

"There is no need to apologize, Miss Jackson. But I would advise you to never do that again, especially in matters regarding the asset."

"The asset?"

"Yes, Miss Jackson. He is known by many different names but that is one that Hydra has stuck him with," Agent Moss spoke. He eyed me as if he were waiting for some emotional outburst to pour out of me, but it didn't. "I am actually here to debrief you on your job."

"I've already talk to that Alexander Peirce and he made my job perfectly clear to me, I promise," I argued. Agent Moss just shook his head slightly.

"Believe me, you're going to want all of the debriefing you get, Miss Jackson. If you would please join me for just a moment and I will let you go back to what you were doing before." His tone was even as he almost mechanically sat back down on the couch, his hand beckoning me to join him.

"I wasn't really doing anything before I noticed that I had a guest," I mumbled as I sat down. My dark hair was a bit greasy and I pushed some of the lingering strands out of the way of my eyes.

"While you're on that subject, I would like to mention that our organization has taken the time and given you a series of books that are placed on the bookshelf for your personal convenience," Agent Moss dictated. His left hand gestured towards the bookshelf across the room and my eyes widened at the no longer vacant, but full piece of furniture. "But I would like to repeat that it would be in your best interest to not lose your temper like you had last night."

"I will do my best."

"I think it would be best for you to see what you will be dealing with before I give you any information," he told. He picked up a folder from the coffee table in front of the couch and opened it, his fingers reaching up to grab a small picture. I licked my lips nervously as I noticed how thick the folder actually was, almost twenty times the size of the one Alexander Peirce read from to me a few days prior.

When he tossed the photo in my lap, I couldn't help but jump slightly. My fingers touched the edges of the photo gently, worried that I wasn't actually allowed to touch it. This man, or asset, was quite handsome despite the fact that he appeared to be sleeping. His jawline was square and had light stubble scattered across the smooth skin. His lips were pink and full, with his top lip having a dramatic cupid's bow. His eyes were closed and his expression looked as if it were a fake relaxation. His dark brown hair looked limp and hung around his face messily. I could see the muscles in his neck and shoulders and I knew that he was much larger, much stronger than the agent sitting next to me.

"We call him the asset, but he is also known as the Winter Soldier," Agent Moss said. I looked up from the photo to see him making the same expectant expression from earlier, as if he were expecting me to burst into tears and plead to be let go. I shifted my eyes back towards the photograph and pointed to it nervously.

"When was this picture taken?" I inquired. The agent looked at me as if I had grown two heads and I tried to shrug nonchalantly. "I just want to know if he's…changed."

"We took this photo about two hours ago after we started thawing him out," he answered. "As far as we can tell, the asset is stable and will be awake in due time."

"'Thawing him out?'" I stammered.

"Miss Jackson, it is very crucial for you to remember that you will not be dealing with a man like me. The asset has been around for a long time and has served Hydra and the world very honorably. In order to do this and for him to fully serve his true purpose, we've had to make sure he lives throughout the years," he told.

"So you froze him? Like an ice cube?" I asked.

"Exactly, Miss Jackson. But the asset doesn't seem to like being put in crysostasis."

"I can't imagine why." I wasn't particularly happy with my situation and it only appeared like it was going to get worse.

"Miss Jackson, I would thoroughly appreciate it if you would keep your sarcastic comments to yourself." I licked my lips and looked away from Agent Moss as he tossed to folder onto the table. "The asset is in peak human conditioning. He is our most expert assassin, marksman, and Hydra was able to make sure that he is a master in the martial arts."

"So, he's extremely dangerous?"

"Dangerous and highly aggressive, especially after he first wakes up, Miss Jackson. Keep this in mind," he reminded. "The asset is also fluent in many languages such as Russian, German, English, Japanese, and some French. So do not get worried if he speaks to you in a language you do not understand at first because it's in his nature to speak something other than English.

"It would be best advised if you did not touch him if he does not touch you first. I can't promise that he will not hurt you if you do, and I can't promise you that he won't hurt you if you don't. Like I said, he is highly aggressive to people below his station."

"Will you stop him if he starts to hurt me?" I asked. No emotion cross over his face and I gulped.

"No. You would be on your own. Your assignment is to make sure that the asset is…comfortable during his stay here. I would be lying if I said that you were the first woman who had this job and that they weren't physically harmed," he insisted. "There are no words of comfort I can give you because they would be lies. You are no stronger than those other women."

"How many other women have been through this?" I wondered aloud.

"Five that I know of, Miss Jackson."

"What happened to them?"

"They served their purpose to Hydra and we're rewarded for it," he sighed. "You shall be rewarded in the same way if you do your job correctly. But this is your job, your assignment. The burden that goes along with it is none of our concern."

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He left shortly after that and I was almost glad at his departure. I was burdened with his words and quickly retreated to the small bedroom and underneath the white covers. I decided then that I would find more comfort in my solitude and the silence than I would with any of the other agents or the asset that would be visiting me. The interaction I had with Agent Moss left me with a lot more questions than answers and I felt ignorant of everything that was going on around me. The fact that there were other women who had been in the same position as I was left me more worried than relieved. Were they held in captivity or did they fight back? Is that why I have no freedom to do what I want? Are they even alive at this point? Surely none of them wanted to talk about what they had been through if they had made it out alive.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the moving wall/door open and close in the living room. I didn't have a clock so I wasn't quite sure how long it had been since I had last spoken to Agent Moss. But I knew that it was most likely the man, the "asset" that would eventually become my responsibility to take care of. I slid out of bed hesitantly when I didn't hear any other sounds coming from the living room. Maybe, I thought, they made a mistake and I would get just a few more moments of peace.

I slowly opened the door to see a tall, muscular form standing in the middle of the room with his back towards me. His shoulders were broad and tense as if he were about to spring onto something. I could see the back of his head that was covered in brown hair that touched his shoulders. He wore a gray hoodie and black sweatpants and I felt empathy for him. It seemed that we would have a matching wardrobe of grays, whites, and blacks. The longer my green eyes lingered on his back, the more and more I realized that this was the man I was kidnapped for.

"Hi," I stammered, my quiet voice echoing across the nearly empty room. I heard a slight whizzing sound and tilted my head at the odd noise. It was as if I blinked once before I felt my throat being gripped by something abnormally cold and abnormally strong. I gasped for breath as a pair of blue eyes bore into mine. He kept saying something, though I couldn't understand him because it was in many other languages. "E-en-English, I speak…English."

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice gruff.

"Stella," I wheezed. "Please, let me go."

His blue eyes held no emotion and I didn't feel any indication that he planned on loosening his grip on my windpipe. I gasped and tried to physically fight in order to try to get air back into my lungs. I felt my eyes began to tear up as my hand gripped his cold wrist.

"Please."

* * *

_Hi guys! This is my first author's note for this story! I just wanted to give a head up and tell everyone that I update kind of randomly, but reviews kind of keep me on track of how many people like or hate my work. So thanks to the 14 who followed and 6 who favorited this story just after chapter one, but a special thanks goes to russiannestingdoll and SoNotYourAverageGirl, especially for that "lazy" comment in your review because it made me giggle, to reviewing! You guys are awesome. I recommend listening to :_

_LDN-Lily Allen_

_Unexpected Places-The Academy Is…_

_Casual Affair-Panic! At The Disco_

_So please review and we'll see about getting chapter three up as soon as possible. Much love, **RGR**_


	3. Chapter 3

"_And I wanted it, I wanted it bad, but there were so many red flags. Yeah, let's be clear, I trust no one."-_Sia (Elastic Heart)

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Chapter Three

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Stars began to flash in my lives as I struggled for breath and focusing on the cold fingers gripping my trachea. The white walls began to blend in with the paleness of the man's face and dark hair. I felt my fingers begin to slip off of his slick wrist. I thought that I was going to die as my vision faded in and out. My cries began to turn into whispers and my eyelids were closing. I remembered the voices of my parents as they called out to me. I remembered the feeling of my mother running her fingers through my hair. I remember my father promising that we would always manage to find a way to see each other again. Death was the only way that I would see them now, and I felt it coming closer and closer. But I didn't see a light or the faces of my loved ones. My vision only continued to get darker and darker.

_"Please."_ I whispered. My body began to relax as I let out my final plea and resolved to the fate that was given to me.

I felt the hand around my throat squeeze a bit tighter before the pressure was suddenly gone. My body fell to the ground and I immediately began coughing as air rushed back into my lungs, the whooping sound echoing around the room. Slowly, my vision began to return but I was still lightheaded. The oxygen felt as if it burned as it forced its way back into my system and I welcomed it gladly as I sucked in all of the air that my body would allow. A chocking, hoarse sob came from my throat as relief flooded my body. Tears poured out of the corers of my eyes as my hands grasped my neck and I looked up to see the man who had nearly killed me.

He was tall. Even if I were to stand up at the moment, I knew that he would be able to loom over my small stature. His torso was broad and his shoulders were taunt with muscle on top of muscle. His legs looked as if they could break something underneath their strength. I stared at his broad shoulders as he walked away from me, his footsteps not making a sound as he stepped across the floor. He looked as if he hadn't been able to bathe quite yet since his hair looked greasy and unkempt. His posture was so tense that I feared he would launch himself across the room and finish what he had started. His skin color was pale and appeared as if it might be too pale for his face. But what was most frightening was the fact that his left arm looked as if it were made entirely of metal. The arm itself looked completely identical to the one on the right, rippled with tough muscles. As I stared at the metallic fingers, my own came up to brush against the skin of my neck that felt like it was already bruising. The contact burned and I tried to keep my heart from racing as I realized that he gripped my throat so hard that the skin that was underneath his hand was now raw. But I now knew that to coolness had come from the bionic arm and hand.

"I don't want you here," he dictated. I watched as his face turned towards me, his blue eyes as cold as ice. "You need to leave."

"I would if I could," I replied, my voice still hoarse.

"Who are you?"

"Surely you know my name. Did they not tell you?"

"No. Who. Are. You?"

My eyes widened at his question despite the fact that it sound much more like a demand. I had originally thought that this secret organization would have told the man in front of me about what they wanted me to do. He had no idea who I was or why I was here. His blank stare numbed me as he continued to watch my every move. My hand dropped from my throat and I lifted it up in some form of surrender. I rose to my feet slowly, trying to make sure I didn't cause another attack to happen.

"My name is Stella Jackson. Your employers want me to…take care of you while you're awake," I stammered. "At least, that's what they told me what they wanted me to do."

"I don't want you here. You need to leave," he repeated. His tone was getting rougher with me as he glared at me from across the room. "I don't need anyone to take care of me."

"Believe me, I can definitely tell that you are a grown man and are perfectly able to take care of yourself. But I didn't sign up for this either," I told. My fingers began to twitch nervously and I couldn't find it in me to stop them. "I can't leave. I'm stuck here until they decide that I'm done with whatever it is that they think I should be doing."

I continued to stare at him, waiting for some sort of emotion other than apathy and anger as he continued to glare at me from across the room. I crossed my arms over my chest and licked my bottom lip. After a moment, he mirrored my movements and crossed his arms over his chest. But the movement for him wasn't a sign of being uncomfortable in this situation, it was of intimidation. It was as if he were a grey wolf cornering his prey into a corner for before devouring it. But he wasn't even close to me in proximity but I felt the need to huddle into the corner of the room as if he were staring down at me. Between the metal arm and the way he moved, I knew that one wrong step and he would make sure that my life would come to an end. I knew that my earlier talk with Agent Moss was now proven true: this man was dangerous. My job for this secret organization was to be his own personal prey. He could play with me or devour me.

"There...There is a bedroom in there," I said, trying to move the conversation to a different topic. "There is a bathroom to the right of the room that has shampoo, soap, conditioner, and towels whenever you need to take a shower. There's some clothes in the dresser, but I'm not sure if they have put any for you in there. But I am more than willing to check and ask for them to bring you some, if you want. I'm guessing you don't really know how to cook?"

"No."

"Well, I'll try and make sure to keep you fed. I can teach you how to cook, if you want?" I sighed heavily when he continued to give me a blank stare. "I know that you can speak other languages, would you be more comfortable if I would try to speak to you in one of them? I only know a little bit of French."

"I want you to go away."

"I can't. Can't you understand enough English to hear that I can't leave?" I groaned.

"I can understand plenty of English."

"Then you can understand me when I tell you that I wasn't hired! I was_ kidnapped!_" I yelled. I licked my bottom lip again and I realized that yelling at him wasn't the best idea. The thought was quickly pushed away. "I was apparently specially picked for you! I didn't want this! I want to go home but I can't! I'm stuck here and so are you! We have to be together and live together and shit like that! You and I are both going to have to just deal with this!

He continued to stare at me with his cold blue eyes and I felt my anxiety rise. Surely, someone would have heard me yelling at him and would come in. They would take me away and torture me in ways I couldn't even imagine for my behavior towards the man in front of me. I felt my eyelids blink rapidly as the imagines of my parents swarmed back into my mind, fear still rising in my throat as my fight-or-flight response tried to kick into overdrive. But there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from this man or the organization that had found me. Everything about this situation was so cold and his eyes only made me feel colder as he gazed at me. Though I felt as if he wouldn't kill me just yet, I wasn't too sure about what he would do in the future. I wasn't sure what this secret organization would do with me once he was done with me, if I lived to see that day. My fate, no matter what path I would go on, would end up with me dying in some way. No just dying, but being murdered. The seal on what I thought was my fate made my twitching hands and tongue relax, but my anxiety was still high.

But the man in front of me didn't make a sound. He slowly walked towards the bedroom and away from me, his footsteps still not making any sounds when he moved. He opened the door and walked into the room without closing the door behind him. Shortly after, I heard the bathroom door open and shut. My breathing slowly eased from its frantic pace and I sighed when I heard the shower turn on. Tears blurred my vision as I fell to the ground again as gravity felt too heavy on my body. I knew that he could hear my crying from the shower, but I didn't care. I had come close to death and I knew that it would follow me from now on.

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_Hello beautiful people! I just wanted to say thanks to all of you that reviewed! Specifically QuikChi, Ammaviel, marina2351, skycord1990, primadea, and Minx1993. You guys are awesome and this chapter, though short, is dedicated to you! Also, a thank you to the twelve people that followed this story since chapter two and the six who decided to favorite this story! Please continue to review and I will try to put out another chapter asap!_

_Much love,_ _**RGR.**_


	4. Chapter 4

"_But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?...How am I going to be an optimist about this?"-_Bastille (Pompeii)

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Chapter Four

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It took everything in me to get off of the floor hours later. My eyes were dry, red, and sore as my throat ached whenever I would try to swallow. But the need to continue on with whatever this job entailed was more powerful than the need to curl up in a ball, weeping until I no longer existed. As I rose from the ground, I began to wonder about the other women that this man had encountered. What did they do? Did they curl up in a ball or fight back? Did they live to do either? I didn't know who they were but the knowledge of them made my chest feel heavy. I sighed heavily as I walked towards the kitchen, noting that he had stopped showering hours ago but had not come out of the bedroom. But I felt no urge to check on him or enter the room in fear or potentially getting hurt. I decided that it would be in the best of both of our interests if I just let him approach me and not vice versa.

The kitchen was a tad bit on the small side. The walls were in a rectangular shape with gray marble countertops lined across the longer sides. The white, gas stove was at the end of the room with four cabinets above it filled with an assortment of dishes. The silverware was in the drawer next to the silver fridge, which was to the immediate left of the doorway, and consisted only of dull spoons. I don't know who these people trusted less: me or him. But the fact remained that I had to continue on. I wouldn't allow myself to cry anymore. I certainly couldn't kill this guy with a dull spoon, either. But the fact that the kitchen kept the same gray, black, and white color scheme did nothing to slow down the thoughts of stabbing whoever thought it was a good idea to keep the same color scheme throughout this entire little prison.

I grabbed a medium sized pot and filled it with water from the sink, which was in the middle of the counters on the left side. I placed the pot onto the one of the burners on the stove before flicking the switch onto "hi" and waited for the water to boil. I ran my hands through my hair as I waited for time to pass by. I found a box of spaghetti noodles in a white box that had no brand name across it and threw it into the water once it was ready. I sighed heavily as I then watched the noodles as I tried to remember where they must have placed the tomato sauce. As I went to put my wooden spoon in the water to test the noodles, I heard a throat being cleared from behind me. I gasped as I turned around and looked at the "Winter Soldier."

He looked a lot better than the last time I got a good look at him. His hair had been washed and looked healthy, though a bit still unkempt. His skin was still pale but now had a warm, clean glow to it. I just noticed that he had a clean shaven face and grimaced at the thought that he must have had to use the small, lady razors they gave me. Despite the fact he looked a little less scary when he was clean, I was still felt fairly intimidated as I gazed at him from across the room. I was satisfied to see that this organization managed to give him clothes and weren't total assholes. He wore a pair of black sweatpants and a gray tank top that showed off his large arms. I felt myself stare at the bionic one until the sound of whizzing reached my ears from my position across the room. My green eyes flashed to the movement of his fingers and realized that his arm must make that whizzing noise every time some part of it moved. My gaze went back up to his face and I tried to look at the area around his eyes, but not directly at them.

"Hi," I greeted as warm as I possibly could. I turned back towards the stove and turned off the gas when I noticed that the noodles were done. I shuffled around the cabinets before I found the strainer. "Did you have a good nap?"

"I didn't take a nap," he grumbled. I bit the inside of my cheek nervously as I moved the extremely hot pot from the stove to the sink and began emptying the contents from it into the strainer.

"That's a shame." I wanted to kick myself as soon as the words left my mouth. "I'm trying to make spaghetti, but they didn't give us any hamburger meat so I guess we're just going to eat noodles in tomato sauce. Is that okay?"

He didn't make a sound but continued to watch my every movement as I walked around the kitchen, finishing the noodles with the tomato sauce a little while later. I sighed as I nervously shifted my eyes from the pot to the soldier across the room, waiting for the food to cool down enough to where we could both eat. I began to make even more nervous movements: taping my foot, licking my lower lip, clicking my tongue across my teeth. I ran both of my hands through my tangled hair before I tried to look at him again. I was unsure how to approach having a conversation with him and I was never good at small talk.

"So, you know my name," I mumbled.

"Zvezda."

"Excuse me?"

"That is your name. It is zvezda," he told. I nodded when I suddenly remembered that he could speak more than just one language.

"Is that Russian?" I asked. I felt a small amount of satisfaction when he nodded once, happy that we were having some sort of conversation. "Is that the language you prefer to talk in?"

"I don't know." He answered and I grimaced.

"Well, what language is most comfortable to you?"

"All of them, I guess. I've never been asked that question. I know many languages and I know them very well."

"I know that you speak like five different languages, but the only ones I think we may have in common are English and French," I said, laughing nervously as I tried to make somewhat of a joke. The expression on his face told me that he didn't find anything humorous at the moment. "I was told that they call you the Winter Soldier. But what is your name? Like, your real name?"

"I don't know," he told. I raised my eyebrows slightly at his statement and shook my head.

"That's crazy. You have to have a real name or at least one you like to go by," I retorted.

"I go by whatever they wish to call me." His tone was void of any emotion and I frowned at the coldness I felt by his statement.

"Hydra, you mean?" I asked. "The more and more I hear about them, the more and more I don't like them."

"You don't have to like them. You just have to do what they say," he replied, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm beginning to see that, actually. But it doesn't mean that I can't call you by an actual name," I argued. "I mean, calling you asset doesn't seem right. You're not working for me."

"What would you suggest?" He asked.

I looked directly into his eyes before studying the rest of his body, licking my bottom lip as I did. He looked so indifferent to our conversation at the moment, but it was more than I could ask for. There was no hostility in his words and perhaps his time alone in the shower/bedroom had given him time to accept the fact that I wasn't going anywhere even if I wanted to. But his body language was still stiff, as if he were ready to strike at any given second. His eyes were alert as they watched me and as cold as the name that was given to him. I suddenly began to wonder if there would ever be a time where he wouldn't think of me as his prey.

"Loup?" I offered. I saw his nose scrunch up at my suggestion before he shook his head.

"You want to call me the French term for wolf?"

"Excuse me, I thought it fit you pretty well," I scoffed, making sure that my tone sounded as playful as possible.

"How would it fit me?" He asked.

"Well, you're pretty scary," I mumbled. I smiled slightly when I saw a barely noticeable smirk come across his lips. "How do you feel about Roy?"

"No."

"Beau?"

"No. But it does…flatter me, I guess, that you think of me as handsome," he told. My mouth opened and closed like I was some sort of exotic, extremely awkward fish.

"That is not what I meant!"

"Surely not, zvezda." His tone hinted that he didn't believe me and I tried to look away from him as I thought of more names.

"Max?"

"No."

I grunted softly before walking over to the spaghetti and placed a large amount onto a white, porcelain plate. I turned around to tell him that the food had finally cooled off but let out a small yelp when my face nearly came in contact with his chest. I glanced up to see him gazing down at me with a raised eyebrow, most likely judging me for the wimpy sound I had just made. I cleared my throat slightly, apologizing as I handed him the plate in my hand. His bionic hand reached and gently took it out of my hands. I suddenly felt the air around us change, as if there wasn't as much hostility.

"There is some spoons over there," I told, motioning to where the silverware was located. He nodded but made no other movements. I looked down at the little pace that was left between us and began tapping my foot, unsure what to do or how to put some more space between us. "Is there anything else you would like?"

"I want to…hear more names that you like." His tone seemed almost vulnerable and was a drastic change from the tones I was used to hearing from him.

"You seem to hate all of the names I've thought of so far," I argued, my voice quiet.

"I've never had something like this."

"Like what?"

"Someone talking to me like you are," he answered. "Someone who wants to give me an actual name."

"That's not true!" I said. "You must have a mother who loved you and gave you a name, even if you can't remember it."

"I don't remember if I have a mother." I gasped after he said this, but his eyes held no sadness that the words he mumbled carried. I nodded, trying to think of more names.

"Okay." I blinked as he slowly took a few steps away from me and grabbed a spoon from the drawer I had pointed out. He leaned onto the counters behind him and his eyes looked at my expectantly. I suddenly didn't feel as hungry as I fidgeted underneath his gaze.

"I am…what about James?" I stammered. I saw something in his eyes light up at the name, as if some part of him liked it. "Do you like that name? Would you like me to call you James?"

"It…sounds familiar," he swallowed. "But it doesn't feel right."

"Well, what if I tried a variation of James?" I offered. "Like…Jamie?"

"No."

"It's nice to be back at this point. What about Jay?" I asked.

"That is…better," he concluded. Once he nodded and shoved a spoonful of noodles into his mouth, I exhaled loudly.

"Then I shall call you Jay," I dictated. He nodded and put his weight off of the counter behind him, walking towards the doorframe that lead to the small living room. "Wait! What does zvezda mean?"

"Perhaps," he started. I could see the ghost of a smirk returning to his face as his head barely turned to look at me, his legs still carrying him farther away from me. "You should read a book on the Russian language, zvezda."

* * *

_Thanks so much to anonymous, primadea, Avenger Girl 2015, and Guest for reviewing. This chapter is dedicated to you guys! Please continue reviewing because the more reviews I get, the faster I update!_

_Much love, **RGR**_


	5. Chapter 5

"_I've got thick skin and an elastic heart but your blade, it might be too sharp. I'm like a rubber band until you pull to hard."-_Sia (Elastic Heart)

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Chapter Five

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"Tell me something else," Jay demanded. I laughed softly as I gazed up at the ceiling as my eyes made up odd shapes that scattered across it.

We had been left on our own for almost a week and I was more than surprised when noticed that no one seemed to bother to check on us. I was still alive and the awkward tension between Jay and I was slowly beginning to dissolve. The first few days alone with him was spent with us trying to get used to each other's presence and habits. We took turns sleeping on the couch and made sure to never really make physical contact with each other unless it was absolutely necessary. I learned that he was almost constantly in some sort of observation, his body always tense as he walked around this environment that was new to the both of us. He learned that I was not particularly the best person to wake up, because I yelled at him for closing the bathroom door a little too loudly. But the first time I managed to actually touch him was a complete accident. Well, besides the time that he almost choked the life out of me. I was barely passing by him when my arm touched the cool metal of his left arm. I gasped so loud that it embarrassed me later on as it echoed across the room. Both of my hands, for some even more awkward reason, reached out and grasped the bionic forearm in some feeble attempt to make sure he didn't stumble. This was (quite honestly) a stupid thing to do because I had barely even touched him. But even if I had completely ran into him with the full force of my body I doubt he would have even blinked.

"I am so sorry," I said. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked down at me, as if he were confused as to why I was apologizing. His blue eyes scanned down my bruised throat and paused, the blue in his eyes flashing apologetically before his gaze continued down my arms. His eyes paused at my hands before he looked back up at my face with one of his eyebrows raised. I swallowed loudly as I dropped my hands from his arm, my fingers twitching nervously at my sides. "Sorry. Really sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"You know, it's just an arm," he mumbled, his voice cutting my previous sentence off, before walking away. I wasn't quite sure that I would ever get used to the fact that he made no sound whenever he moved.

I was left gazing at his broad back as he disappeared into the kitchen. I sat down on the couch nervously as I heard the sounds of a knife hitting one of the cutting boards coming from the kitchen. Had I gone too far? Was he really not effected by the way I awkwardly grabbed him by the arm? Because just a small glance at it made a shiver go down my spine. The talk that we had a few days prior didn't quite ease the tension and I never really called him by the name we both agreed on at this point. I felt as if I were in my early teenage years again as I stumbled, stuttered, and embarrassed myself time after time whenever I was around him. But I began to wonder why I was like this around him. Most of the time, I was quite comfortable around men. It was easier for me to make friends that were male than female. But Jay made me feel like I was constantly on my toes. Was it because he seemed so lethal? I jumped and swore under my breath when a bowl was dropped onto the coffee table in front of me. The liquid in the bowl was white with large chunks of miscellaneous green bits scattered throughout the bowl. I looked up to see Jay staring down at me, a spoonful of the substance in his mouth as he held his own bowl in his right hand. I watched his face as he chewed, his strong jawline moving slightly and there was a small amount of the liquid falling from the corner of his lips.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice soft.

"Okroshka," he answered. He quickly put another spoonful in his mouth and began to lightly chew up whatever was inside of it. "It's kind of like soup. But cold. It has cucumbers, dills, radishes, eggs, and potatoes. I would have put some kind of meat in it but we do not have any."

"Did you have a craving for it or something?"

"No," he replied. I gazed at him with confusion written across my face and he sighed. "As a thank you for…cooking and cleaning up after me for the past few days. You are right."

"About what?"

"This situation that we have been put in. I do not wish to make it as…unpleasant as it already must be for you," he told. He sat down next to me on the couch, the coolness of his bionic arm touching my skin. My eyes flashed from his arm to his eyes and I relaxed when I noticed that he didn't seem to mind the contact.

"So, you know how to cook?" I asked, picking up a spoonful of the soup and putting it in my mouth. It wasn't the most pleasant taste, but it also wasn't the worst thing I had ever tasted.

"No, this is it, actually," Jay told. "Well, I know what plants are edible or not when I'm on a mission. But I am currently not. So, this was the best I could do. I apologize if it is not as good as the spaghetti that you made."

Despite the fact I didn't particularly like the taste of the okroshka, I ate it as fast as I could possibly could. It was cold and the mixture of eggs and vegetables didn't exactly sit well on my taste buds. But it was a heartwarming meal, despite the odd texture and flavor. The meaning behind this cold soup was welcoming.

"You liked my spaghetti?" I inquired as I finished my bowl of okroshka. He was still eating but nodded.

"I thought it was good. Do you not like your own cooking?" He sounded surprised at my question and acted like it was a ridiculous thing to ask.

"Well, I just eat whatever I make. I haven't really had anyone to test my 'recipes' on, if we're being honest," I replied. I shifted uncomfortably at the statement I made.

"Do you not cook for your семья?" He asked.

"семья?" I repeated, though I knew I must have said it wrong when I saw a flash of amusement come into his eyes.

"Family."

"Oh." I looked away from him and down at the empty bowl on the coffee table. My tongue peaked out and licked my bottom lip. I winced slightly when it burned to do this and I made a mental note to stop that particular habit. "My family died when I was nineteen. I don't have any brothers or sisters."

"I am sorry, zvezda. I didn't mean to upset you," he told. I shrugged but continued to keep my eyes on the bowl in front of me.

"It's okay. I mean, it is the reason why your employers picked me," I chimed, trying to make light of the topic that we had been placed on. I chuckled nervously when I didn't hear him say anything. "So…do you have one of those?"

"One of what?" He asked. I looked up at him finally and saw that the tense observation had returned to his mood and body posture.

"A семья," I said. The left corner of his lips lifted slightly and I knew that I was definitely saying that particular word incorrectly. "I must be really bad at speaking Russian."

"Oh, you are," he answered. My jaw dropped in fake shock at his reply and I saw him shake his head playfully. "But, I do not have a family of my own."

"What happened to them?" I asked.

"I…I don't know," he whispered. "I can't ever remember calling someone my mother or having siblings."

"What can you remember?"

"Missions. Faces of the people I was sent to get rid of," he stated. "There were some that were so easy. There was no mess. No tears of family members and loved ones that grieved for them."

"Are there any others?" I swallowed thickly as I turned my body towards him, my right side leaning onto the couch.

"Why do you want to know about this?" He countered. He pushed the bowl onto the coffee table and turned his cold, blue eyes to look at me.

"I want to get to know you. Every part of you, if you want. I don't know who you really are or what you do for this…Hydra company," I answered honestly.

"You wouldn't like to know some of the stuff I've done."

"There's a lot of stuff that is being done right now that I don't like," I objected. "But I can't prevent it and I can't go back in time and stop you from doing your job."

He watched me carefully as I gazed at him, his eyes scanning my body for any signs of deceit. I remained in my spot, my mind trying to tell my body to be completely relaxed. Jay and I were making progress now and I didn't want it ruined because I found myself nervous around him. He sighed before he leaned back into the couch and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes looking away from me. I breathed out slowly when I felt less nervous with his gaze elsewhere.

"There...was this man in the back of a car," he started, his words flowing slowly. "I don't remember when this was. But I was sent to help train one of our upcoming agents in successful assassinations. He was going to do the mission. It was meant to be an easy success with nothing else attached to it."

"I remember the man that we were sent to assassinate. He was so young for someone in such a high position. He was in a car with no top on it, so Hydra was sure that this would be an easy job," he continued. "His wife was sitting next to him in an expensive looking pink outfit and a pink hat on her head. They looked so…perfect. People were standing in lines as he passed by in the car. He was a hero to them, zvezda. Our agent took the first shot at this man, but missed. The man in the passenger seat of the car heard it, though. He started looking around and I knew that we only had a short amount of time to finish the job. He fired again and managed to not only hit the target, but the man in the passenger seat.

"I remember the way both men reacted to the bullet that managed to hit both of them. The target's wife was automatically calling for the men that surrounded them and she saw the bullet wound in his throat. Both men were making so much noise and bringing so much attention to what was going on. It wasn't supposed to be like this," he mumbled. "It was supposed to be easy and we were supposed to be able to get out quickly. But our agent took too long."

"What happened?" I asked, my voice quiet.

"I had to finish the job. I pulled out my gun as the car began to drive closer to me. I aimed and was able to hit the target in the head," he sighed. His jaw was tense as he stared at the okroshka that was left on the coffee table. The man's wife was terrified by that time. His blood splattered all over her clothes and she tried so hard to get out of the car, to save her own life. She must have known that her husband was dead. But a man pushed her back into the car and she got down into the seat of the car, huddling to her husband as he continued to bleed on her. People were screaming and everyone was searching for us."

"Did they ever find you guys?"

"Well, Hydra doesn't like being sloppy. There is no room for error. So, they denied to agent protection and the agent was captured by police shortly after."

"So, he's in jail?" I asked. My mind began to piece together the information he was giving me like a puzzle and I started to see the bigger picture. I knew the answer to my question as soon as I had asked it."

"No, zvezda. Hydra also doesn't deal with loose ends," Jay explained. "They hired his former mentor to shoot him while he was being transported to the county jail. It was one of the messiest jobs I have ever had a hand in. But Hydra…thanked me for my participation. Without me, the job would have gone south. The man would have lived."

"Well, that's…I understand why you are uncomfortable talking about our missions," I stated, my tone breathless.

"Do…Do you know the man I had to kill, zvezda?" He inquired.

"Did they not even tell you his name?" I countered, my eyes wide. "Jay, you killed John F. Kennedy. He was the President of the United States."

We sat in silence for a moment as we both absorbed the information we had just been given. His body language was tense and I feared he would break his own jaw by the way he was grinding his teeth together. I felt weak and breathless as I watched him. He was truly lethal and participated in one of the biggest events in history. What else had he done?

"Did you know him personally?" Jay asked, his voice quiet. I shook my head and swallowed the lump in my throat.

"No, Jay. He…died before my parents were even born. President Kennedy died in the 1960's, that was fifty years ago," I spoke, my tone soft. "Can I ask you something, Jay? I understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore right now."

"What?"

"Why was he assassinated?"

"He was a mutant."

* * *

_Yes, I just did that. Why? Because it ties in Disney's Marvel and Sony's Marvel, and that's how I like it! If you do not understand the mutant bit, watch __**X-Men: Days of Future Past.**__ The JFK assassination/Bucky involvement was not originally my idea. I saw it on a post on tumblr and expanded on it, so props goes to that unknown person. __Also, this chapter is not meant to offend anyone. I am a US citizen and GOD BLESS AMERICA! _

_You guys were so awesome, especially these lovely people: russiannestingdoll, MissAnimeMiss, QuikChik, Avenger Girl 2015, and GhostSoldier. This chapter is dedicated to you! Also thanks to BehbaLovesTea, BowtiesImpalasandSociopaths, MissSweetApple28, S. , Wolves of Midnight, herpderpburr, LeMiia, Scylla's revenge, avalanches, Noel Blue, The Calm Spy, and ireland28 for favoriting this story since chapter 4!_

_Much love, __**RGR**_


	6. Chapter 6

"_My church offers no absolution, she tells me 'worship in the bedroom.' The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you."-_Hozier (Take Me to Church)

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Chapter Six

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"So, what do you think?" I asked.

Jay and I were sitting on the couch with books in our hands. We were getting more and more comfortable with each other with each day that passed by. I was beginning to make my way past his hard exterior and I was pleasantly surprised when I was met with an anxious, unsure man underneath it all. He was always asking questions and wanting to have discussions with me. It was normal to see me in sweatpants with a generic romance novel in my hands, even if I wasn't being held captive. My clothes consisted of gray sweatpants and a black, long sleeve shirt. I looked like I was in my own element and I felt much more comfortable. Jay was wearing all black, something he seemed to do very often, and I watched with amusement as his eyes scanned the pages of a book. His hair was clean and tucked behind his ears. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was set into a deep frown. It was almost scary how normal everything about us and around us appeared. The thing that made our picture quite odd looking was the fact we were always wearing shades of white, gray, and black, and the fact that Jay had a romance novel in his hands.

"Do you want me to lie?"

"No."

"I really hate this book!" he exclaimed. He closed the book and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of him before crossing his arms over his broad chest. I laughed as he seemed absolutely done with anything to do with that certain book. "Honestly, zvezda, I can't see how you are able to read that junk."

"What was so terrible about it?" I questioned, my eyes flashing with amusement as I tried to keep myself from giggling.

"Everything!" He stated. "Seriously, why do you read that?"

"Well, I used to read them because I liked the thought of falling in love," I said. Jay turned his head towards me at my honest answer. "I guess nothing has really changed since then."

"You have never been in love?" He inquired. I shook my head slightly and his eyebrows furrowed over his blue eyes. "Why not?"

"You are certainly full of questions today," I said, trying to avoid the question. He continued to stare at me, waiting for an answer. "I guess I've never found the right person to fall in love with."

"Perhaps because you're too busy falling in love with fictional characters," he offered. "I just can't see the appeal with those kind of guys."

"No, I don't think you really could," I objected. "Most girls grow up hoping to find men that are identical to the ones I read in these books."

"Why?"

"Every girl wants to be swept off her feet and kissed thoroughly," I sighed. His eyebrows furrowed at my statement as if he didn't fully understand it. "I would love to find a guy that is willing to carry me anywhere. Guys today are only willing to do that to girls that are a lot smaller than I am."

"You aren't that big, zvezda," Jay said. I shrugged at the comment, it not even phasing me.

"It's still true. I've never had a guy declare his love for me or read me poems. So, the only way I can find men like that are to read books like this," I stated.

We sat in silence for a moment that felt neither awkward nor comfortable. After some time, I felt fingers gently touch the ends of my hair and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The fingers left my hair and I turned my head to see Jay letting his metal hand fall by his side. I sighed with relief and gave him a small smile. Though there was very little tension and awkwardness between us, we still slept in different rooms and took turns sleeping on the bed. We talked about books, social issues, and what he might need to be caught up on. He would smile whenever I would tell him that something was important to remember, but his eyes were always sad. We both knew that he would probably be frozen again after he finished whatever the mission he needed to finish.

"Are you okay?" I asked. His blue eyes looked nervous as he gazed at me, uncertainly written across his face as I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"I just…wanted to touch your hair," he replied. My hands came up to touch my hair and I ran my fingers through the dark strands, trying to make sure there wasn't anything in them.

"Is there something in it?"

"No, I just can't remember ever touching someone else's hair," Jay told. "You seem to play with your hair whenever you feel troubled."

His blue eyes shifted nervously across my face and I knew he was trying to read into my reaction. My left hand slowly drifted towards his right hand, my fingers twitching slightly in anticipation. We weren't bothered by brief contact with each other, but we never initiated contact with each other. Both of us were watching my hand as I cautiously grabbed his hand. His hand remained relaxed and I let out a small amount of breath that I was holding in. My thumb ran across the rough, warm skin on his knuckles as I tried to ease him into having physical contact with me. I lifted my gaze up to his face to see him staring down at our hands, observing them as if he had never had someone softly touch him. I grasped his wrist softly and began to bring his hand up towards my neck. I felt Jay's warm fingertips go across my skin and snack through the roots of my hair at the back of my head. I removed my hand from his wrist as his fingers weaved in and out of the dark strands, his eyes watching the movements as I leaned into his touch. His mouth parted slightly as his blue eyes scanned up my throat.

"You have my permission to touch my hair whenever you like, Jay," I whispered. "I trust you."

I felt the cool touch of his metal fingers on my cheek and forced myself not to jump at the difference in temperature from his other hand. His hands and fingers moved slowly across my skin as he were making sure I wouldn't be frightened. By the time his hand grasped my cheek, I was used to the cold and I closed my eyes at the feeling of his thumb running across my bottom lip. His right hand continued to gently play with my hair. I continued to feel his gaze focusing on me, judging my reactions but never stopping. Whatever tension was left between us was beginning to melt away.

"Does it always feel this way?" Jay mumbled as I felt his right thumb run across my ear. "Is it always this easy?"

"Is playing with my hair always this easy?" I joked, smiling slightly as felt his hand brush through my hair.

"No, touching someone like this." I opened my eyes and looked at his face as his words began to weigh down on my heart. He laced his finger back into my hair but they did not move through the strands or sift through the roots.

"Has no one ever been gentle with you?" I inquired. There was a small shake of his head before his eyes closed.

I lifted my hands slowly and placed them onto his neck. My fingertips scanned across his smooth skin as I shifted across the couch so that I was closer to his body. I gently pulled his head downwards so that his cool forehead was pressed against mine, my fingers threading into his dark hair as gently as they possibly could. It burdened me to know that Jay had known nothing other than being an assassin. He didn't remember whether or not he had family. Perhaps the only interaction he had with other people were the ones he was either sent to train or kill. I couldn't believe that he didn't have anyone to hold or care for him. Everyone deserves to have a friend. Someone had to look out for him and I wanted to be that person. I breathed out as I slowly pulled away from the embrace and gazed up at him.

"You don't ever have to worry about me being rough with you," I declared. "I don't think I could hurt you even if I tried."

"I could teach you," he offered.

"You want me to hurt you?" I tried to joke. His eyes opened and the blue orbs seemed to steal the breath from my lungs.

"If it comes to that, yes. But I also want you know how to hurt someone who might want to hurt you," he replied.

"What do…" I stuttered. He shook his head a few times before he cut through my sentence.

"They want me to start training soon, zvezda. My new mission begins soon," Jay said. "There will be times that I will be gone for hours at a time. When the mission begins, it might be days before you even hear of me."

"Oh," I mused. "Well, you should be happy! You've been forced to be with me in this place for over a month now. You'll be able to get out and hopefully find something that is more entertaining than romance novels."

"But you might not get the same chance," he reminded. "I honestly do not know what they might do with you. I don't know if they will send someone in here to watch you or leave you completely alone. But I want you to know to defend yourself if someone tries to hurt you."

"I'm nothing to Hydra," I argued, shaking my head again. "Why would they try to hurt me?"

"You may mean nothing to Hydra, but that won't stop other men from doing something we both don't want to happen." His right hand gripped a lock of my hair in his hand. "I will not always be here to protect you."

"I fear that I will not always be here to protect you either," I confessed. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at me.

"You wish to protect me?" He asked. I swallowed the lump in my throat when I realized how stupid I must have sounded to him.

"I know, it seems absolutely ridiculous. You are a deadly assassin with a bionic arm and I'm a former librarian that is barely average height," I babbled. "But this corporation, this Hydra thing, doesn't take care of you and I hate it."

"You shouldn't say such things," Jay started. I shook my head, removing my left hand from his neck and placing it over his mouth.

"Let them hear me tell the truth," I demanded. I removed my left hand from his mouth and my right hand from his hair. I placed them onto his wrist and gripped them tightly, wanting to get my point across. "I may be nothing to them, but they will have to get through me to hurt you again."

"They are willing to do that."

"Then I know where my place is," I told. His eyes were hard as he looked down at me. "My place is in front of you until I can't take that place anymore."

"Why are you doing this?" He asked. "You have no reason to try and help me. I tried to kill you when I first saw you. We have kidnapped you and forced you to live with no social interaction other than what I can provide you, which isn't much. You deserve better."

"You deserve better, too. Whether they believe it or not, you are human. You are not just an assassin or whatever they want you to be," I protested.

I watched Jay as he sighed heavily before leaning down to press his forehead against mine. I did not shy away from his touch and continued to gaze up at his face as he closed his eyes. His breathing eased and I felt his fingers begin to move through my hair again. I let out a small sigh as his left thumb traced across my bottom lip softly.

"I won't let them hurt you, Stella," he spoke. "I promise."

* * *

_I would love to take the time thank primadea, WXCKED is good, WestOfTheGlass, MissAnimeMiss, and Guest for their reviews! Also, thanks to everyone who subscribed and added this story to their favorite lists! I was so worried about the ending of the last chapter and I'm relieved to know that it was well liked._

_To Guest: Yes, zvezda means star in Russian. Why did I pick that? Stella means star. I just thought it was cute._

_Please continue to review! I've been getting about 5 reviews per chapter, which is awesome, but I would like to hear more from you guys. I have big plans for the next chapter (and perhaps a sequel) but I want to see more feedback! I will update whenever that happens __ Thanks!_

_**Much love, RGR**_


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